


Tear You Down

by Randominity



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Comeplay, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a 1dkinkmeme prompt that reads as follows:</p><p>
  <i>ok so basically I'm not really 100% sure what this prompt is, other than I need Louis/Nick and I need it to be a little angry? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>So like say Louis thinks Nick is just a hanger-on and is only using Harry to bolster his own fame, while Nick thinks that Louis is an immature brat and should stay out of Nick and Harry's friendship. They somehow end up in a bit of a shouting match and end up having hate!sex, maybe it's in a club bathroom or at a party or something and they're possibly a little drunk?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear You Down

“Why are you still drinking that crap beer?” Nick says, leaning over Louis's shoulder and covering Louis's hand with his own on the bottle, twisting it to display the Corona label. “Let me fix you up a nice drink, love; no one should have to suffer that for an evening.”

“Oh, you should let him,” Harry tells Louis knowingly, leaning in with his own cup clutched between two fingers. “He mixes great drinks.” He grins and raises his eyebrows, lifting his cup in cheers, but sloshes the liquid dangerously close to the edges. Nick has probably fixed him four drinks already since they've been at his home for the party, and he's past the point of getting pliant and slow of reflex.

“Of course he mixes great drinks, Harry,” Louis says, tilting his bottle. “How else is he gonna please everyone, keep them coming on his show?” Louis pauses at that and then shrugs up at Nick, tipping his head back. “No offense,” he says blithely, sipping from his bottle.

Nick doesn't miss the bemused look Harry is shooting at Louis, line forming between his eyebrows while Louis drinks. He smiles guilelessly. “Aren't we all in the business of pleasing people, here?” he says. “Maybe I just do it with my excellent drink mixes; you can't fault me that. And you do it with...” he sweeps his gaze over Louis, pausing significantly at his quiff, thinking _too easy_. “Music? No. Children's games?”

Louis blinks at him, twitches an eyebrow. “Sorry?” he says, voice flat.

“What's that you called it?” Nick glances up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “Ah, yes. Replay?”

“Oh, god, don't get him started,” Harry moans, hiding a half smile with his hand and rolling his eyes.

Louis's gaze doesn't waver as he rises to his feet. “You know, I think I will take you up on that drink,” he says evenly, setting his bottle down on the table, and Nick raises his eyebrows, bares his teeth.

“Replay,” he says. Harry guffaws, snickering into his hand.

Louis's mouth opens and his Adam's apple bobs for a moment before he makes a sound. “You know,” he says, as slowly and carefully as before, gaze boring into Nick's, “I think I will take you up on that drink,” and Nick thinks Louis might just hate him a little. He can't even be arsed to be coy.

"Now, there's a lad." Nick gestures ahead of him and Louis leads the way to the kitchen, but once there, he takes Nick's elbow in his hand and pulls him in.

"You can't honestly believe," he whispers sharply, “that Harry spends time with you of all fucking people for the maturity.”

Nick pulls out of Louis's grasp, holding his hands up in surrender. “I'm just saying it seems he's made a choice,” he says, shifting around and between his other guests, reaching into the cupboard to rummage for liquor, and Louis bobs his head sarcastically.

“Yes,” he says voice raising as he folds his arms, “because, what, pulling faces in mirrors is the epitome of adulthood? Honestly, you might be taking the daddy thing a bit seriously, _Grimmy_.”

Nick laughs at that, shrugging and pouring at the same time. “Well, you would know best about all the immature things Harry likes and doesn't like, wouldn't you, now?”

It's Louis's turn to shrug. “Don't think you're actually insulting me with that,” he says with a half smile, eyes narrowed. “He's _eighteen_ ; he can be as immature as he likes.”

“And yet he likes _me_ ,” Nick says. “Hmm. Maybe it's the quiff, then. What do you think about that, Louis? Is that why you've been wearing one?”

Louis tilts his chin up and smiles sweetly, closed-lipped. “Oh, yeah,” he says, “I'm trying _so hard_ to be just like you. What I'd really love is to be known better for whose names I can drop. Tell me: who's next, after Harry Styles? Or is there no one bigger?”

Nick pushes the cup he's prepared into Louis's still-folded forearms. “Take your drink, Louis, and stop while you're ahead.”

Louis stares at him, unmoving. “I'll pass,” he says.

“Suit yourself,” Nick says, and takes a sip from the cup himself, feels the burn of the liquid on the way down. Louis continues to watch him, head tilted and hip cocked.

“He'll get bored with you,” Louis says suddenly. “You're _exciting_ right now. You make him feel _special_. He'll get over that, before long. I heard he's got Taylor Swift's number now.”

“So protective, it's actually adorable,” Nick grins, taking another swig. He makes his way out of the kitchen and Louis turns to follow, dodging bodies and unfolding his arms as he goes.

“I just don't want you using him,” Louis calls after him, and Nick turns as he lets Louis trail him back to the hall, his eyes flickering over Louis's shoulder to see if Harry's noticed their conversation. He's deeply engrossed in what someone's showing him on their mobile, so Nick points a finger at Louis and says,

“You know, for all your talk of how he doesn't need a father figure, you don't seem to grasp he's not an actual _child_ anymore.” He holds his hands out. “He's a big boy, making decisions and everything!”

“And getting you papped for the papers,” Louis says hotly, “and more listeners than you know what to do with, and isn't that _convenient_ for you--”

Nick swallows around another sip, sneering. “It's such a hardship, really, nearly all the calls are for him now--”

“He's gonna drop you,” Louis shouts, “when he gets tired, when he realises--”

“And then what, come back to you?” Nick bellows, coming to a stop before the toilet door. Louis flinches, blinks. Someone - he doesn't recognise them, face in shadow - pauses as they pass the hall, then moves along quickly.

“Fuck you,” Louis says. “That's not-- he hasn't--”

“Oh, get in here,” Nick says, reaching out and grabbing Louis by the shoulder, and pushes him into the toilet, kicking the door shut behind him. Louis presses his back against the wall, seething at Nick, and Nick follows him back, setting his drink down on the counter. “He hasn't what, Louis? Dropped you? You're not wishing this was your house party he's getting pissed at?”

Louis reaches up and pushes his hand against the side of Nick's face, turning it away. “Get out of my face, man,” he says, and Nick sweeps his hand aside.

“No, you listen,” he says, and he doesn't know what he wants to tell Louis, gripping him about the shoulders and shaking him against the wall.

“I said fuck off,” Louis tells him, breathing hard, and Nick kisses him hard, mashes their lips together against their clenched teeth; he feels Louis's head thud against the wall from the force of it.

“Shut up, for fuck's sake,” Nick says, chasing the words with kisses, “just shut it,” and Louis slumps against the wall and for a moment Nick thinks he might actually have given Louis a concussion or something; he grips him again to make sure he stays upright, but Louis's posture is solid and he's not looking into Louis's eyes anymore and he realises Louis had been standing on his toes the whole time. He laughs weakly into the next kiss, biting hard at Louis's upper lip and tracing the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “You're ridiculous,” he says, and slides his hands down to Louis's biceps, squeezing.

Louis has the heels of his hands pressed to Nick's shoulders, but his fingers are kneading at Nick's shirt, breath escaping in puffs against Nick's cheek as they sloppily kiss, tongues flicking over closed lips and then darting inside to sweep over sharp teeth, nibbling and snapping at each other. “You fucking prick,” Louis pants as they part and Nick nudges a thigh between his legs, says,

“shut up, shut up,” and Louis does, pushes forward with his hips.

Nick drops his head and mouths hungrily at Louis's jugular, making him hiss and tilt his head up, eyes glassy and face red. Nick slots his leg against him again, feels him hard in his jeans, and Louis's gaze slides down to the side like he resents it. Nick isn't going to give Louis the chance to regret this; they're not friends and this isn't romance, but he knows Louis wasn't on his first beer and he's not the kind of man to take advantage of that, so he grips Louis by the chin and forces him to meet Nick's eyes. “You still in there, darling?” he says. “We're not doing this if you're too pissed to remember in the morning.”

“I'm fine,” Louis mumbles, tugging at Nick's wrist, eyes suddenly sharp. “I don't need to be pissed to make every bad decision.”

Nick chuckles, but says, “you'll not pin this on me,” bringing his hand down between them to cup Louis's cock through his jeans, and Louis pushes him back, dropping to his knees and fumbling with Nick's belt. He has Nick's trousers open and fingers in the waist of Nick's pants when Nick tugs him back up; he doesn't want to come first, appealing as the thought of Louis on his knees for him is, of shutting up Louis Tomlinson's infamous mouth with his cock is. Instead, he reciprocates on unbuckling and unfastening as well, and easily hoists Louis up to sit on the edge of the counter, rocking against him between his spread thighs.

Louis keeps his back arched to avoid the toiletries and glass on the counter and the tap behind him, and Nick takes advantage, pushing his t-shirt up over his stomach and chest, mouthing over them as he works their cocks together in one hand, the other supporting Louis by the small of his back.

Louis's hands tangle in Nick's hair, ruffling and tugging it at the back of his neck, and Nick says, “thinking of Harry's curls, are we?”

Louis tightens his fingers in sync with his sharp intake of breath, and breathes, “it's not like that.” Pushing up into Nick's hand, he adds, “has he done this for you, then?”

Nick leans in and steals another kiss, licks into Louis's mouth and the two of them pant against each other for a moment before he says, “have I fucked him, you mean? No, that's something I saved just for you,” and he cuts off Louis's reply with his mouth and a particularly rough jerk of the hand. He hears Louis's breath become erratic and grips his cock tightly until it slows, bringing him to the edge again and again until Louis's litany of

“fuck you,” becomes, “just fucking let me,” and, eventually, “for fuck's sake, _please_ ,”

and Nick says, in wonder, staring at Louis's bitten lip and the vein standing out in his neck, “how are you even like this and you haven't even given the kid a blowjob?”

“I don't have to fuck him to _care_ ,” Louis spits, gulping for air.

“I care,” Nick tells him, and speeds up the motion of his hand. “All right? I care, and I'm not using him or whatever you're so scared of-- I care about him and I won't hurt him, and you didn't have to fuck me to find that out. _You could have asked._ ” Louis's breathing grows uneven again and this time Nick strokes him through it, feels Louis's posture grow rigid and then he comes with a cry. Nick captures most of it in Louis's own foreskin and then uses the rest to slick his own cock, continuing to stroke them both until Louis is whimpering against his mouth, still hard and shuddering. A few strokes later and Nick's own orgasm ripples through him, and he angles his cock to stripe Louis's stomach and chest with come before staggering back.

Louis stares at him in disbelief, chest heaving, then looks down at himself. “You complete arsehole,” he says, voice noticeably hoarser.

Nick shrugs, tucking himself in, and reaches past him to rinse his hand in the sink. He dries off and kisses his fingers as he waves and leaves Louis sitting there, hard and covered in Nick's come.

“Where did Lou get off to?” Harry asks him when he returns, taking the seat Louis abandoned, and Nick feigns ignorance.

“What, he's not been back yet?” he asks, then shrugs and picks up Louis's beer bottle. “Maybe he's gone off to the toilet or something, I've no idea.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums in acknowledgment. “Did he like the drink you mixed him at least?” His own cup is empty.

“Nah,” Nick tells him, and Harry grins.

“His loss,” he says. “Top me up?”

Nick finishes Louis's bottle of crap beer in one long pull. “It would be my pleasure,” he says.


End file.
